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I sit up, more than a little stung. There’s nothing wrong with being a cleaner.
I’ve annoyed you. Your cheeks are getting all sassy and red.
I look up at the camera, trying to glare, but I feel my lips tugging with a Sam-like smirk. I’m not getting sassy, but it’s true.
I never said anything was wrong with it, but you must have aspirations.
I sigh, feeling my shoulders bow. I’ve never really had time for that. In fact, when I was younger, I purposefully didn’t let myself think about it. I had to focus on my mom.
But what if you had the time, money, and freedom? What would you do then?
I’m not used to people showing so much interest in me. Mom is constantly fighting her own private battles. Eli asks questions, but often, I sense he goes someplace else as I answer.
I don’t even know, I text.
Think, Katy.
But I can’t, I reply. I still have to earn money. We still need to eat.
CHAPTER 12
Sam
I stroke my hand over Jackal’s head, more for my comfort than his. She hasn’t even had time to find something she’s passionate about. The world has beaten her down too much. It makes me want to hit something, anything. It makes me want to roar.
She called me out, and she was right. I’ve focused on jobs that bring me money. Sure, I’ve done the right thing along the way—if anybody can consider killing right—but her point stands.
She’s tucked her legs up, but it’s not like when she was shaking her full hips. She just happens to be sitting like that.
I reread her text, wondering if she’s hinting for me to say something, to tell her I’ll provide financially. I would if she agreed to be my woman, only mine if she hungered for it as I do.
You’ve never had an idea, not even a small one? I text.
She bites her lip and lets it go. She’s driving me insane with that. I want to kiss her full lips softly at first, feeling the shape of her mouth.
If I had the freedom, I’d help people, she responds. I’m not sure who or how, but that’s what I want to do. Make a difference, even a small one. Does that sound cheesy?
It sounds like exactly what I want my woman to say, the exact attitude I want to fill her warm heart. I can imagine her approaching motherhood with the same emotion and dedication.
I think that’s a perfect idea. Maybe I could help you find out what that is.
Yeah, that would be nice, she responds.
I am interested in nice. There’s also savage starvation in me, flaring to life more vigorously each time I look at the tablet. Each time I look at my woman, the shape of her legs, her ass, my cock starts to get hard. Reluctantly, I turn off the tablet.
What are you doing today? she texts.
I almost groan. I want to tell her where I am. I want to touch her tenderly, but I couldn’t be soft for long. I’d erupt in hunger, unable to stop myself from feasting on her. Biting her thick thighs, kissing up toward her center, sucking on her sensitive clit as she shook and whimpered for me. Fuck. I stand up. My hands are shaking.
Heading to the gym, I reply, then start walking.
It’s turned into a hard day of training. I haven’t texted Katy since this morning, but she’s been in my thoughts constantly. After the gym—two hours, legs and upper body—I went to the range for an additional two. Then I trained Jackal for ninety minutes.
Now, it’s evening. The activity and the commuting have done their job by filling up my day, but it hasn’t distracted me. She was in my thoughts, even on the most intense reps, those final few that caused my muscles to tear and roar for release. She helped me to lift heavier.
What if she was in a burning building? What if your kids were in there, too?
Thinking of my woman, I hit a personal record on the deadlift for the first time in several months. The blood is rushing all around my body. My manhood stiffens every time I think of her.
Going into my apartment, I get into the shower, the water dripping over my body. It’s too easy to imagine the warm droplets as her hands, tongue, and mouth are wrapped around my hard tip.
After the shower, I text her. I’m trembling all over. Are you still at work?
No, I got home an hour ago. I’m just relaxing in bed.
My balls throb. It’s like a signal is pulsing from deep inside, telling me I should be there. Without texting back, I find the tablet and take it to my bedroom. It’s like I’m on autopilot.
If I see her in person, I know I’ll tell her. I can barely hold it back with the luxury of deleting unsent messages, but in the flesh, kissing her young, fertile body, tasting her juices… Fuck, I’d tell her who she belongs to forever.
